I Hope That You'll Remember Me
by Screaming Faeries
Summary: No one really thought much of the mermaid in the portrait in the Prefect's Bathroom. But just who was she?


**WC:** 2,997

 **Written for:**

\- QLFC Round 4: Each member of the team must choose one creature as a prompt. You will be writing from the point of view of the creature you choose. / Chosen creature: Merperson

\- Gringotts Prompt Bank: OC Names (Skyrim) - Mirabelle

* * *

 **1883**

 _Oh, misty eye of the mountain below,  
_ _Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls._

The early morning air prickled Mirabelle's throat as she sucked shallow breaths into her lungs. She made the most of the sensation, knowing that this would be the last time she felt the sting of crisp air in her throat. Carefully, she began to sing a series of high-pitched notes into the lake.

The mountains that surrounded Hogwarts seemed to rumble as the Black Lake stirred. She was sitting in front of the large body of water, wearing nothing but a thin cotton nightgown. Her skin ached with the cold, but it was the least of her worries; her mind was instead focused on the ripples forming in the water. One by one, a series of green heads broke the surface, their yellow eyes boring into her suspiciously. She had awoken the Selkies of the Black Lake, something not many students at Hogwarts dared to do. But Mirabelle wasn't like other students.

The Chieftainess of the Mervillage rose in the centre of the circle of selkies. She was the biggest of the group, with the longest, wildest hair, and wore a string of sharp teeth around her neck. When she opened her mouth, her gums were black and many of her teeth were missing, but her appearance didn't faze Mirabelle. "Was it you who sang a Siren's Song?" she spoke, with broken English, in a gravelly hiss. Mirabelle nodded gravely. "Explain yourself."

"My mother was a siren," she explained. "However, my father was a wizard. He fell in love with her in Greece, but when I was born more witch than mer, my father returned to England with me." Mirabelle looked down at her pale legs as she spoke, hating the bony appendages she had been born with. The water was stirring with the swirls and whips from the powerful selkie tails, and she could feel jealousy burning her face.

"And what do you want of us?" the Chieftainess hissed.

Mirabelle stared deeply into the eyes of the Chieftainess. "I do not belong on land," she whispered, her eyes glittering longingly. "I never have. I've dreamt of living in the water for so long. Magic does not come naturally to me, and I feel no familiarity here." She took a deep breath. "I cannot live on land."

The selkies glanced between each other, and the Chieftainess turned to face them. They talked irritably between themselves in Mermish, and after what seemed like hours, the Chieftainess turned back to face her. "If you leave," she said quietly, "you will never regain your legs, and you will belong to the lake for the rest of your life. And it will be a long life, as a merperson has one hundred years on the average human. Are you sure?"

Mirabelle nodded determinedly. "I've never been more sure of anything."

The selkies formed a semi-circle in the water and held out their arms, inviting Mirabelle to wade out into the lake. She swam out to the selkies, and they slowly advanced upon her, entwining their arms in a tight-knit circle. The Chieftainess paddled directly in front of Mirabelle. Mirabelle could smell the salt and fish on her breath, but she didn't care. Her yellow eyes burned into Mirabelle's blue, as she wrapped her arms around Mirabelle's shoulders. Below the water, she could feel her strong tail curling around her legs.

"Mer blood runs in your veins," another selkie spat from somewhere behind her. "Our magic will bring it out of you."

"Do not hold your breath," the Chieftainess ordered. "Forget about your human reactions. They no longer matter." Before Mirabelle could reply, the Chieftainess used her strong arms to suck her under the water, the rest of the selkies following after them.

Metres down they went, all the while the Chieftainess never let go of Mirabelle. The girl's eyes scanned around wildly, slowly adjusting to the dark gloominess of the lake. As her lungs screamed for air, her brain went into a brief flurry of panic. Had she made the wrong decision? Was she this all a trick that the merfolk were playing on her? Was she going to die?

When she met the familiar golden glow of the eyes in front of her, she felt oddly calm. _Do not hold your breath,_ the Chieftainess seemed to speak inside Mirabelle's mind. Slowly, she parted her lips, allowing the cold water to stream inside her mouth and throat.

As the lake water filled her lungs, Mirabelle became aware that the selkies were singing. It was a sharp, eerie sound, but it sounded oddly soothing. Her brain felt like it was becoming flooded with water, her ears were filled with the music, and then everything went dark.

* * *

 **1942**

 _If this is to end in fire,  
_ _Then we should all burn together._

Mirabelle avoided the cold eyes of her peers as she swam away from the village at the bottom of the lake. She was heading for the windows below the water that looked into the Slytherin Common Room; a reminder of her old life.

Mirabelle didn't regret her choice to become a mermaid, she just often felt isolated amongst her new family. She was still different from them, more human than fish, and she knew that many of the other selkies resented her for it.

Unlike them, with their grey, gangly, seven-foot bodies and streams of black and green hair, Mirabelle had kept her creamy white skin. Her hair remained honey-blonde and long, and her scales were crimson and gold. When she had first seen her new appendage, she was reminded of the picture of her mother that her father had often shown her. The sirens of Greece all had sunset-coloured tails.

All of the selkies her age were settling down and mating, giving birth to the next generation. The Chieftainess had made comments about how Mirabelle should find a mate soon, but none of the male selkies were interested in a mermaid who looked more like a human woman than a fish. And frankly, Mirabelle wasn't interested in them, either.

There was one man who Mirabelle had set her sights on, even though she knew, deep down, that nothing would ever come of it.

She reached the window that overlooked the common room and spread her palms across the thick glass, peering inside. Through the murky light, she made out a familiar figure, with a neat sweep of ebony hair and sharp, angled features. He turned his dark eyes on Mirabelle, and her heart fluttered.

He was alone in the common room, which she was thankful for. Most of the Slytherin students that had spotted her were very averse towards part-human creatures, and they made that clear with their ugly scowls and rude hand gestures. It was only he who didn't; it was only he who seemed to _enjoy_ Mirabelle's company.

She watched giddily as he drew his wand from his pocket and slashed it through the air. Golden letters burned in front of him: _Meet me at the waterfront?_

Mirabelle nodded enthusiastically, and waited for him to flash his charming smile, before heading towards the common rooms exit. She flicked her tail and swam towards the surface.

As she swam upwards, her stomach bubbled at the thought of meeting Tom Riddle again. She knew that she was making a mistake; the Chieftainess warned against the mer making contact with the witches and wizards above, unless permission was expressly granted from both parties. But Mirabelle couldn't resist Tom's charm.

"You came," he greeted in a whisper, crouching down beside the lake. He reached out to cup her damp cheek, and she leaned into his palm.

"Of course I did," she replied brightly. "Did you sneak out of the castle without issue?"

He smirked. "Did you ever doubt I would?"

"Not at all."

"I wanted to ask, Mirabelle," Tom started. "Have you thought any more about my offer?"

Mirabelle hesitated. Every time they met there during the night, Tom asked her if she would like to see the inside of the castle one more time. He told her he could hide her in the Prefect's Bathroom, which had a bath large enough to swim in. During her time at Hogwarts, Mirabelle had never seen this bathroom, and while the offer did sound appealing, but she was apprehensive.

When she had chosen to take this life, she had agreed that she would belong to the lake. What if the Chieftainess found out that Mirabelle had left? Would she be abjured from the Black Lake?

And above all that, what if someone caught her in the school? The Chieftainess would be forced to pay, and Tom would get into trouble.

"I'm not sure, Tom," Mirabelle replied quietly. "I don't think it would be..."

"Think about it a little more," Tom cut in. "The Christmas holidays are coming up. We will discuss it again in the new year." He straightened up. "Goodnight, Mirabelle." Whipping around, with a swish of his cloak, he began marching back up to the castle before Mirabelle could reply.

* * *

 **1943**

 _And if we should die tonight,  
_ _Then we should all die together._

It was only minutes after her scales left the water that Mirabelle knew she had made a mistake.

In the midst of the cold January night, Tom had scooped Mirabelle out of the lake, and she had latched her arms willingly around her neck. She was excited to see the inside of the castle once again, for just a few moments, she didn't care about what her family would think.

That was, until she heard the familiar screech of a selkie above water. She flipped her head back to the lake, feeling a painful tug on her fins. The Chieftainess was clutching the end of her shimmering orange tail in a vice-like grip. "What do you think you are doing?" she hissed, her voice dripping with malice and something else: betrayal.

"I'm sorry," Mirabelle cried. "I've made a dreadful mistake. Can you put me back?"

"No," Tom replied smoothly. "I'm afraid I cannot." He backed away from the lake, so that the Chieftainess was forced to let go of Mirabelle's tail, or risk being dragged out of the water. When he had reached a reasonable distance, he dropped Mirabelle ungraciously on the frosty ground. Tom then reached into his pocket to retrieve his wand, and pointed it directly at the Chieftainess's heart.

"What are you doing?" whispered Mirabelle, her blue eyes widening.

He didn't respond—in fact, it was as though Mirabelle was no longer there. She began to drag her body towards the lake, her tail flapping uselessly on the grass. When Tom noticed her attempt to escape, he planted a foot down on her fins, causing her to cry out in pain.

The Chieftainess released an angry growl. "Release her at once!"

"You are going to tell me your secrets, beast," Tom retorted venomously. "I've read all about merfolk and humanoid creatures, and I know that each and every one of you has some kind of magical secret at your core. I know you have magic, and you are going to tell me what it is."

The Chieftainess was silent, raising one thick, green eyebrow. Suddenly, she broke out into ugly, hacking laughter. "Stupid humans," she snapped. "Always hungry for more power than they already have; always desperate to learn every secret the earth has to offer. Well, you are wrong. There is no magic in our blood. The magic is in our voices, in our songs—and you will never be able to comprehend that power."

Tom's face twisted into an expression so cruel that Mirabelle hardly believed it was him. "You're lying, half-breed scum," he snarled, his dark eyes glimmering. With a flick of his wrist, he shot a jet of lime-green light towards the Chieftainess. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

The curse hit her directly in the chest, and her yellow eyes glowed for a millisecond, momentarily illuminated by the spell. She sank slowly into the water, her head vanishing below the surface.

Mirabelle cried out. "You killed her!" she screamed. She could see ripples spreading across the lake, and she knew that her family were approaching. They couldn't, wouldn't, take Mirabelle back now. She had willingly left the lake, and the Chieftainess had come to reclaim her. For this, she had been killed, because of _Mirabelle._

Tom clapped a hand roughly over her mouth and nose, and threw Mirabelle over his shoulder. As he marched back up to the castle, she saw dozens of green heads breaking the surface of the lake and staring up at her with their glittering yellow eyes. She wanted to fight Tom, to break free from his grasp and thrash her way back to the lake—but it was pointless. The lack of water was making her dehydrated, tired, and there was a heavy blackness descending over her.

Before she passed out, she remembered something the Chieftainess had told her shortly after she had changed. _"A merperson must remain in water at all times, and our tails can only be out of the water for a short amount of time. If you're left out for too long, you will start to dry out. Your tail will try and absorb the liquids in the human half of your body, but it won't be enough to fully hydrate you. You'll die, slowly and painfully. So_ never _, ever leave the lake."_

Closing her eyes, she prayed that Tom would get her to a water source, and not leave her to die.

oOo

Time passed in one slow, painful blur. Tom had taken Mirabelle to the Prefect's Bathroom as promised, and she couldn't deny that it was a pool of adequate size. Perhaps she would have appreciated it, if she wasn't in so much pain.

Every day, Tom returned to the Prefect's Bathroom to torture her. He questioned her on the secrets that the merpeople were keeping, and every day Mirabelle swore that she had no idea. Even if the merpeople did have secrets, they would never have shared them with her.

He did a whole manner of horrible things to her. Hundreds of horrible spells were cast, and there was nowhere in the bath to hide from his wrath. The worst, however, was the pain he inflicted upon her tail. For a long time he had been removing her golden scales one by one, leaving her bruised and bloodied. The wounds were sore, and the water made them sting.

He never healed her or helped, and he never apologised for misleading her. Mirabelle grew to resent herself for being so stupid as to fall for his good looks and charming lies, when evil was brimming at the mere surface of his skin. She could see it clearly now, even through the blurry haze of her pain.

Sometimes, Mirabelle wondered how no one had found her, as she screamed and howled at the top of her voice on many occasions. Her questions were answered one day, when he assured her that no one would find her. He told her that he had control over a secret beast that lurked within the pipes of the castle, and it had been only too easy to cause the toilets and taps to become unusable in the Prefect's Bathroom. The teachers and students were so preoccupied with the school's more important matters,so no one really cared about fixing the bathroom.

Not only that, but Tom had rendered the bathroom completely soundproof.

Many days, Mirabelle would do nothing but float on her back, staring up at the brick wall between two large windows above the bath. It was home to a large painting, which featured the Black Lake and a rock sitting at the forefront, overlooking the lake. How Mirabelle wished that she was sitting on that rock, staring out to the place she had come to call home. She closed her eyes, imagining her tail swishing through cold, fresh water, instead of the warm, soapy bath.

It came as no surprise to Mirabelle when she lost the will to carry on. She hurt all over, and she knew that even _if_ she could return to the lake, she would never be accepted. She was doomed to be alone—forever.

It was all too easy to haul herself out of the bath and flop out onto the tiled floor.

About fifteen minutes was all it took before the lack of water on her tail became uncomfortable. It was a dull itch at first, and then more of a burn. The urge to throw herself back into the bath was almost unbearable, but Mirabelle gritted her teeth, forcing her body to remain still.

Thirty minutes passed, and she was sure that she could feel the sensation of the blood and fluids draining from her torso and arms. But the Chieftainess had been right—it wasn't enough. Her tail twitched desperately, still thirsty for water.

When an hour had gone by, Mirabelle was surprised that she was still alive. She was so cold, so thirsty, so pained, that she was sure she was hallucinating when the door to the Prefect's Bathroom cracked open. Her stomach lurched and she prayed it wasn't Tom—she knew he would kick her straight back into the bath, and her pain would start all over again.

Instead, a tall wizard with long white hair and a beard to match entered the bathroom. He wore half-moon spectacles and floor-sweeping robes, and he crouched down beside Mirabelle, assessing her situation silently. "Who did this to you?" he asked quietly.

Mirabelle didn't have enough words left in her to tell Albus Dumbledore what he wanted to hear. Instead, she turned and used all her strength to point at the painting above the bath. "Please put me there," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I want him to remember what he did to me."

Albus nodded solemnly as Mirabelle's eyes slid shut. "Of course."


End file.
